


WHISPERS OF LOVE

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim thinks about how much he loves Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHISPERS OF LOVE

## WHISPERS OF LOVE

by BARBARA THOMAS

I don't own the guys. Pet Fly and others do. I wish it was different, but there you go.

This was posted as a snippet to Senad some time ago but I'm only now getting around to posting it to the Archive. Feedback will be much appreciated.

* * *

This is nice. 

Shit, Ellison, is that all you can come up with, a freakin' inadequate word like 'nice'? 

Perfect sounds better. Much better. 

Satisfying right down to the soul level sounds best of all. 

You and me together, in bed. Holding one another, belonging to one another. You wrapped around me like an octopus, all arms and legs, your head tucked underneath my chin, your breath regular and warm and moist on my chest. My arms around you, our legs tangled together, our cocks lying side-by-side limp and spent, our bellies splattered with each other's semen. 

I'm glad you're asleep at last, safe for a little while at least here with me. I'm glad you can sleep, after what happened today, glad that the nightmares don't come when I hold you. 

I used to dream sometimes, you know, dream about making love to you and wonder what it might be like. But none of those dreams prepared me for the reality of it. 

I never dreamt the tenderness, for instance. I never dreamt that you'd want to cuddle like this, afterwards. I never dreamt _I'd_ want it. 

Men who have sex with men don't...cuddle, in my experience. Women do. Women expect gentleness, tender touches, soft words. Women like to be held. Sex between men was always different for me, quick and straightforward, no frills; a bodily function, nothing more. Get our rocks off, scratch the itch, then go our separate ways. 

Simple. And I could save all the soft, gentle stuff for the women who appreciated it. 

My bisexuality has always given me the best of both worlds. I've never had to turn away from someone beautiful just because they were the wrong sex. There _isn't_ a wrong sex for someone like me who plays both sides of the fence. Man or woman, so long as they were warm and cooperative sex was like a feast spread out for my enjoyment, but even with Carolyn that's all it ever was - just sex. 

Nothing else. Nothing deeper. Nothing...more. 

Then you came along and turned my world inside out. 

Because one day we went to bed together and for the first time in my life I discovered I wasn't just having sex, I was making love. 

The first time I met you at the hospital, you were an irritation. The second time, in that cluttered closet you called an office, I knew I was looking at trouble. I had no idea how much trouble, though, or how many different varieties of it. 

If I had done, I wonder, would I have walked away? I doubt it. You saved me from that damn garbage truck, and you were the only one who seemed to have even the vaguest idea of how to save my sanity. I was desperate for the help you could give me, and you were also the stuff my wet dreams were made of. How could I turn my back on that, trouble or no trouble? 

Unfortunately for me, your love life seemed to have a lot in common with the Gordian Knot. Complicated doesn't even begin to describe it! There were more women hanging around than you knew what to do with, and that's all you seemed to be interested in. You certainly weren't interested in _me_ , not the way I wanted you to be. You were happy to spend more and more time with me, move into the loft with me - but that seemed to be all, and I was fool enough to believe you when you told me, "It's about friendship, Jim." 

When the penny dropped at last and I finally - finally! - recognised that there was a helluva lot more than 'friendship' involved, that you wanted what I'd wanted all along, there you were grinning at me and wondering aloud why the hell it had taken me so long, and why the Detective of the Year had been so slow at detecting what had been under his damn nose all the time. 

You know, for just a moment back there I really wondered whether I should kiss you or kill you? Then I caught the expression behind the laughter in your eyes and opted for the kiss. Thank God I did. And thank God we were in the loft at the time, because one thing led to another and the rest is history. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if either of us have rabbits somewhere in our ancestry. We've certainly been fucking like them ever since. 

And then I think - what the hell! Enjoy! 

I can't do anything else anyway. I don't even want to try. I'm trapped, like a moth to your flame, spiralling in closer and closer, and I don't give a damn. You're too important to me, too necessary. You keep me sane. 

And I'm not talking about only the Sentinel thing. 

I've never felt like this about anyone before, and the sheer strength and depth of the emotion scares me. I wish I could tell you, could explain how much you mean to me. I look at you and I open my mouth - and the damn words stick in my throat. You've said them to me so many times, and I know you want to hear them back, but I can't get them out. I've tried to show you, tried to demonstrate 24/7 in every other way I can just how much I care about you, but that isn't enough any more. Not for you, and not for me. 

But tonight the words are churning about inside me, bubbling up to the surface like lava determined to erupt. I could have lost you today. For a few terrible moments I thought I _had_ lost you, and it nearly killed me. Being with me puts you in so much danger, and you're so brave - so stubborn. You stick to me like glue even when I try to keep you safe every time something like today happens. One of these days I'm not going to get to you in time, and that thought scares me witless. 

I know you're awake. I heard your heartbeat and breathing change, I can feel the beginnings of those little wake-up movements you always make. I know you'll hear me - I want you to hear me. Because here in our bed, in the dark, I can say out loud the words my heart has been saying silently for so long, the words my body and soul have been saying to yours with every look and touch and kiss each time we make love. 

I need to say them, just in case I never get another chance. 

* * *

And so, whisper-soft and half muffled in the thick, soft curls that tickled Sentinel lips, the words he had never been able to say before got said at last. 

"I love you, Blair. You're my anchor, my rock, the owner of my heart and keeper of my soul. I never believed it was possible to feel this way about anyone until you came into my life, and now I can't imagine my life without you in it. You're the only one I could ever want and always will be, the only one I'll ever need. I love you so much it hurts." 

And out of the darkness, even more softly, a mere breath of air and sound against his chest, the well-loved voice answered huskily, 

"As I love you, Jim. As I always have done, and always will." 

* * *

End WHISPERS OF LOVE by BARBARA THOMAS: syndas@cascade69.fsnet.co.uk

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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